


Tumblr Word Meme Collection

by titania522



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Red Rising Trilogy - Pierce Brown, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alley Sex, Crossover, Drabble Collection, Fantasizing, Ficlet Collection, Gen, In Panem AU, Masturbation, Modern AU, Odesta, Public Sex, Smut, Tumblr, Tumblr Memes, Tumblr Prompt, by request, everlark, everlark fanfiction, first time kisses, historical fic, smut of every kind if i can get away with it, tumblr word meme list, various fics, word meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titania522/pseuds/titania522
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles and oneshots inspired by the tumblr Word Meme and written by request.  All center around Everlark. Originally published on tumblr in August/September 2016. Meme List and link constitute first chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Word Meme List

[Tumblr Word Meme](http://titaniasfics.tumblr.com/post/149193948575/send-me-a-word-and-i-will-write-a-drabble)

(Please note - not all words inspired a drabble or one-shot.  

 

Word List:

 **Cheiloproclitic -**  Being attracted to someones lips.  
**Quidnunc -**  One who always has to know what is going on.  
**Ultracrepidarian** \- Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge.  
**Apodyopis -** The act of mentally undressing someone.  
**Gymnophoria -**  The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.  
**Tarantism -**  The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.  
**Autolatry -** The worship of one’s self.  
**Cagamosis**  - An unhappy marriage.  
**Gargalesthesia** \- The sensation caused my tickling.  
**Capernoited**  - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.  
**Lalochezia**  - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain.  
**Cataglottism** \- Kissing with tongue.  
**Basorexia**  - An overwhelming desire to kiss.  
**Brontide**  - The low rumbling of distant thunder.  
**Grapholagnia**  - The urge to stare at obscene pictures.  
**Agelast**  - A person who never laughs.  
**Wanweird**  - An unhappy fate.  
**Dystopia**  - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell.  
**Petrichor** \- The smell of dry rain on the ground.  
**Anagapesis**  - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did.  
**Malapert**  - Clever in manners of speech.  
**Duende**  - Unusual power to attract or charm.  
**Concilliabule**  - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot.  
**Strikhedonia**  - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.  
**Lygerastia**  - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out.   
**Ayurnamat** \- The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.  
**Sphallolalia**  - Flirtatious talk that leads no where.  
**Baisemain**  - A kiss on the hand.  
**Druxy**  - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside.  
**Mamihlapinatapei**  - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.


	2. Petrichor - The Smell of Rain on the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Katnissdoesnotfollowback. Modern AU, featuring Odesta.

Petrichor - The smell of rain on the ground

 

“Just get her a bottle of perfume, mate!  Annie loves perfume,” Finnick said in his faint, Irish lilt, fogging up the window of the shop as both he and Peeta admired the offerings beyond. “She’s got all the bottles of perfume I’ve ever bought her all lined up on her vanity. She keeps them, even after they’re empty. Says the bottles are almost as pretty as the perfume inside.”

 

Peeta chuckled. He’d never say it aloud, never mortify his friend with it, but if there was a cuter couple in the world than Finnick and Annie Odair, he had yet to meet them. They were his model relationship. They had everything he wanted for himself.  And he hoped that he could have that with Katniss, if he could just keep from botching this one thing.  A gift. A birthday gift. But what do you give a woman who didn’t seem to need anything from anyone?

 

He stared at the ornate bottles, the sparkling liquids, the smiling, airbrushed models, and the saccharine smiles of the counter clerks beyond.  Pretty and made up like china dolls.  The shop sparkled like a dew drop in the crisp, early spring air.  It was inviting but cold, the way an icicle invites you to touch it before it dissolves to nothing in your fingers.  This wouldn’t do. Not at all.

 

“I’ll never buy her perfume,” Peeta turned his back to the shop and faced the road.  A tall oak toward before him, large leaves unfurling from it’s winter slumber, ready to shield the walkers below from the persistent heat of the sun. 

 

“Never?” Finnick asked, stepping up to watch the shoppers make their way down the avenue. 

 

Peeta took in a large gulp of air, catching the scent of the oak together with the moist, verdant soil, the scintillating sunshine that had become a quantity he thought he could touch, if he willed it hard enough.  God, the springtime world suddenly smelled like Katniss. And there was no perfumeria that could bottle such a thing and offer it to anyone.  It was like a punch to his gut and longing sprang up from the impact. He wanted her at that very moment, so that when she stepped out of the boutique, linked arm and arm with Annie, he left his friend with the question in the air and met her half-way down the walk.

 

“Remind me never to shop with Katniss again. The concept of fashion is a mysterious one to her!” Annie said, her voice lilting with the music of a deep contentment.  “She won’t try any of it on.  She is hereby condemned to live out the remainder of her days in blue jeans and a t-shirt!”

 

Katniss blushed but did not seem apologetic. Peeta held her gaze as he answered. “That’s because she doesn’t need any of it.  She’s perfect, just the way she is.”

 

Annie discretely bit back a smile and released Katniss’s arm, floating to where Finnick stood, no doubt with a smirk on his face. But Peeta only had eyes for Katniss - hair as dark as the night under a full moon, eyes the color of pale tanzanite, uncommon and of value only to the one who finds it.  Her blush deepened but she held his gaze without flinching.

 

“Is that your way of getting out of shopping for me?” she said, the joke not reaching her eyes, which smouldered with something hotter than the sun.

 

“Does that disappoint you?” he teased.

 

“No. Not at all.  Shopping bores me.” She reached up to adjust the lapel on his jacket, which had become bent.  Even separated by layers of material, he felt the electricity  “And I hate to spend money on useless things.  I like...experiences.  If you ever want to give me anything at all.”

 

He nodded again, taking a deep breath, the smell of her mingling with that of the world around them. It spoke truth to him. She was not one for shops and boutiques. He would take her away.  He would tuck her into a corner of the forest, like a wood sprite. And it would only ever be the earth and trees and the canopy of leaves in all its seasons. That’s how he would woo her. Because he determined in that very instant to make her his forever.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he settled his arm over her shoulder and lead her down the avenue to where Finnick and Annie stood together, staring into the windows of a ceramic shop.

  
  



	3. Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by shesasurvivor, anonymous and akai-echo. A special dedication to akai-echo, who had a particularly rough week and was in need of a bit of “dark-alley nookie” so here goes. ((Hugs))! Modern au.

 

**Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.**

Peeta finished the last slide of his presentation, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and forefinger. It usually didn’t take him long to put together his history lectures but he was more distracted today than usual.

It was Friday and he had a special evening planned.

“Still hanging around?” Thresh asked.  Thresh Arceneaux was a professor of architecture and Peeta’s neighbor, both at the office and in the historic brownstone where professors could choose to live during their first year of tenure at Panem University.

Peeta pushed a stack of books aside, reaching behind to unplug his computer. “I’m on my way out now. Just wanted to have everything ready for Monday.”

“Procrastination. You should try it. Especially on the eve of your anniversary,” Thresh teased, leaning against the doorjamb of Peeta’s office with a shit-eating grin that broke the tension Peeta felt and brought a smile to his face.

“I’ve got it all set up.  Dinner, gift, flowers, the works.  All that’s missing is me.” Peeta stood, dusting off his pants and picking up the slim, soft leather case he used to transport the papers he graded or one of his many Art history books between his house and the university.

“Wining and dining your lady tonight?” Thresh said. “Guess you’re gonna be keeping me and Rue up this weekend.”

Peeta chuckled. “No, I’m driving us up to my family’s place on the lake for the weekend. We’ll have the cabin all to ourselves.” He added with a wink. “You guys can get some sleep.”

Thresh guffawed. “Nice!  So, why are you still here?”

Peeta tipped his head in acknowledgement before heading out for the afternoon. The evening promised to be perfect after the warm, late summer day. He was relieved that Thresh hadn’t understood the real reason for Peeta staying on late, even though he had planned this night out for nearly a month. His stomach was twisted in knots and he was so scared, he thought he might actually make himself sick. On this night, one year ago, Peeta had taken Katniss on their first date.  He had wanted to honor the occasion with a special gesture - the biggest one he could think of.

But it was all or nothing and he was terrified he might get it all wrong.

So he had fretted and puttered, changing fonts and images on the slides, as if they had been absolutely necessary to understanding the lecture, instead of dwelling on the most important question of the evening.  He might have wiled away another hour doing so had Thresh not interrupted him.

By the time he arrived home, he’d convinced himself that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she said no. He repeated this to himself as he took his time, showering and shaving, putting on his nicest pants and dress shirt - the light blue one that Katniss liked so much - and jacket.  When he slipped the small, velvet box into his inside jacket pocket, he was practically tantric in his repetition. He continued as he locked up his house and descended the stairs to reach his car, as he drove to pick her up, parked outside in the driveway of the light green house with worn shingles that she shared with her mother and younger sister, Prim.

In fact, his conviction was nearly incorruptible by the time he knocked on the door and Prim opened.

“She’ll be down in a moment,” she said, giddy, as if she had just had a good long laugh.

“Right.  How’s school?” he asked, trying to hold on to his confidence. He had been in this house a hundred times but he felt as nervous as the first time.

“Oh, silly, who cares!” Prim said, her blond hair bouncing as she settled onto the sofa. In that moment, Katniss descended the stairs.  At first, he did not recognize her - she almost never wore dresses unless on very special occasions - even make-up was an optional accessory. She was well groomed but she wasn’t vain about her appearance.

Now, however, she stood before him in a modern qipao dress. The overlay was of delicately embroidered black lace, large flowers connected as if spun by a silken spider, beneath which was a gold lamé slip. The lace hung to her knee but the slip ended at mid-thigh, so that the dress was at once demure and risqué, the tension between the two tugging at a spot in the middle of his chest.  Her olive skin, which glowed naturally, glittered from a soft dusting of sparkling powder so that she looked ethereal, standing in the slanted light from the small living room behind her. When he dared look at her face, it was framed by intricate braids that exposed the curve of her slender neck to his hungry eyes.

He was right. It wouldn’t be the end of his world if she said no.  It would be the end of him. Because she had never been more perfect, more desirable than she was at this moment.

And all his conviction drained away like melting snow.

“Like what you see?” Katniss said in a low voice that made pin pricks spring over the surface of his head.

“You look...I don’t have the words for how you look,” he said, pulling out a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back.  He had wanted to say something glib, something that invoked the stilted manners of the past, complete with wit and an accent but he choked on all of it and instead handed the flowers to her. “For you.”

Katniss’s eyes widened briefly, her laugh lines crinkling with pleasure. “Thank you,” she held them gingerly and turned towards the kitchen but Prim was already at her side.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not going to get water on that dress!  I’ll put them in a vase and leave them in your room,” she fussed, like a mother hen over a wayward chick. “Scoot! Go on now! Peeta has reservations, don’t you?”

Peeta nodded, captivated by the dimple at the back of Katniss’s sheer, stocking-covered knee, of all things. “Yeah...sure. We should...we should get going.”

Katniss gave up the flowers to her sister and turned, taking Peeta by his arm and walking with him to the car. He couldn’t help himself - he picked up the hand that rested there and kissed the fingertips, noticing the sheer polish on her fingernails.

“You gave yourself a manicure,” he remarked, because he’d never seen her paint her nails before. She always complained that they would chip within hours of getting them done but he knew she secretly saw it as a perfect waste of time.

Her cheeks darkened. “I didn’t do them. Prim did. Fingers and toes.” she poked her leg out and wiggled the toes that were on display in her high-heeled sandals.

“You let her do that to you?” he teased, opening the car door.

“Well, this is a special occasion,” she practically purred. He shut the door and wiped his face, tapping the pocket of his jacket.  His heart was in his stomach - he was no longer confident and at ease. He discretely took a deep breath as he put the car in gear, glancing every so often at Katniss as he drove.

Peeta, who was always able to make small talk about everything, found himself tongue-tied and at a loss for words. “So...erm...how was...how was your training at...at school?”

“You mean the curriculum meeting?” she said before shrugging. “It was okay. I mean, it’s an adoption year so the textbooks are changing but science is science.  The only thing that changes is how you teach it.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “You seem preoccupied. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m just...really excited about tonight,” he forced a bright smile on his face.

She put a hand on his forearm. “Peeta, you could have taken me to eat hot dogs, I would have been happy. I hope you didn’t go out of your way to do anything extra.”

Her comment both soothed him and made him even more anxious. She was perfect. Perfect for him. “I know, but you deserve the best.  And I want you to remember tonight.”

She leaned over, leaving a warm kiss on his cheek, her hand resting on his lap. It made him nervous, which just made him want to slap himself. It wasn’t as if he had never been out with her before.  He probably wouldn’t have cared as much if so much did not depend on tonight.

They arrived at The Mockingjay, an exclusive restaurant that only accepted reservations, unless patrons were willing to wait on a stand-by line in the restaurant bar, a guaranteed wait of two hours if they were lucky. Peeta led Katniss to the hostess, a bubbly woman of indeterminate age with pink hair piled high and precariously on her head.

“Welcome, welcome!  How may I help you?” she asked.

“We have a reservation for 8pm,” Peeta said. “Mellark, party of two.”

“Indeed. Let me see.” She scanned the gold painted guest book, scanning the names with a perfectly manicured pink nail to match her wildly-colored hair.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see a Mr. Mellark on the reservation list.”

“I called a month ago for this reservation,” Peeta said, his stomach curling in on itself.  Try as he might to maintain his composure, he could feel his cheeks redden.

“That may be but your name is not in the book. If you are not in the book, we cannot seat you,” the pink lady said sweetly, but with an underlying tone of steel.

“You don’t understand, ma’am,” Peeta answered with an effort to maintain his cool. “I called and made this reservation already and even confirmed it last week.  I must be on there. You need to check that list again.”

“Peeta, it’s okay, we can go somewhere else,” Katniss whispered but she was cut off by the woman.

“Manners, please!” she exclaimed, flustered.  “I assure you, there has been no mistake. We take our patrons very seriously but you do have to make a reservation. You cannot be accommodated unless you have actually called to have your name placed on the list –“

Katniss’s conciliatory attitude evaporated. “Excuse me, Miss…” Katniss squinted to read the brass and gold name badge. “Trinket, but if Mr. Mellark said he called and made a reservation, he called and made a reservation.”

“Of course, dear, but had he made the reservation, his name would be here on my list. But his name. Is not. On. The. List.” She enunciated as if she were speaking to three-year olds.

“Or maybe someone didn’t do their job properly,” Katniss said and Peeta heard her temper flair in her voice. This could end very badly for this Miss Trinket if she wasn’t careful.

“Well, I never…Haymitch!” she called out behind her.  At the door, scruffy, dark-haired man appeared. Despite the expensive clothing, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“What is it, Effie?” he asked wearily.

“I called one month ago,” Peeta interrupted, feeling sicker by the minute, “I made a reservation and now, Miss Trinkett claims that not only do I not have a reservation, but that I never called in the first place.”

“I’m sorry, sir, if you aren’t on the list, we can’t accommodate you. We have a limit on the number of patrons we serve and we’re packed tonight.”

“So you can’t even assure that if someone calls your restaurant, and they go out of their way to show up at your establishment, they will get the service they expect? Is that it?” Katniss said.

“Yes, Sweetheart. That's it. Because you have to be on the list.”

“Sweetheart?” Katniss hissed, appearing ready to leap over the hostess stand but Peeta clasped her hand.  He had been so taken aback by the absolute lack of courtesy that he had been rendered speechless. However, Katniss’s indignation more than compensated for him.

“Come on, Peeta, let’s go. Even if they did find your reservation, I don’t want to eat here anymore.  Who wants to eat in this overpriced dive anyway?” she said, pulling him along before she stopped abruptly and turned back to Miss Trinkett.

 

“And your hair?  It’s stupid.”

Miss Trinet’s eyes widened in shock. “My goodness!” she exclaimed but they simply walked away.

Peeta was crushed. He’d planned every aspect of the evening, from the courses to the dessert and aperitif, he could finally give her the gift nestled in his pocket since he dressed this evening, the one upon which all his happiness depended.  He was more than angry, he was despondent.

“Peeta!” Katniss said and it was then that he realized that she was speaking to him.

“I’m sorry, Katniss, what did you say?”

She stopped and faced him, looking up into his eyes with a defiant expression. “I said, they don’t deserve our business anyway. There’s that little Italian place on the corner where we always go. We can have dinner there instead. What does it matter?”

Peeta sagged. “It matters to me. I really wanted you to remember this night. I wanted it to be special.”

“It is special,” Katniss said, pulling him between two buildings so that their conversation would not be overheard.  “You were so stressed about tonight that you’ve barely been able to talk to me. That’s not like you!”  She leaned her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I like the way that you are…the way  _ we  _ are…when we’re just ourselves.”

She pressed her lips against his, kissing him, and he unfolded against the pressure. At first, he was hesitant because his defied plans would not let him have peace.  But when Katniss slipped her leg between his, pinning him between her hips and the stone behind him, it revived him from the disappointment of the evening.

He kissed her back, hungrily, wantonly, the way he’d wanted to do since he laid eyes on her in that tiny dress.  His large hands splayed open against her back, pressing her against him and he realized how stupid he was. She loved him.  Just as he was happy with her, no matter what they got up to, it escaped him that maybe she would feel the same way.

He was a different person from the one he was only five minutes earlier. He pulled her up against him, oblivious to where they were, he only wanted to be as close to her as he could. He traced an intricate path with his tongue along the length of her wonderfully exposed neck and shoulders, his lips finally brushing the edge of her dress with a sigh of satisfaction.

“I love this dress,” he said against her lips as his hands slid up her thighs, feeling the delicate material wrapped around her thighs, the tell-tale clasps that held her sheer stockings in place. He swallowed hard, reaching around to cup her bottom when he realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

He moaned, sure his eyes would cross in his head if he opened them to look. His fingers stretched, searching for her wetness and found it as if waiting for his touch. She had left the house with gartered stockings and no underwear, for him, just for him. How could he have had any doubts?

“I love you, Peeta…I want you…” she said between heated kisses. The light of the streetlamp fell so that they were just in shadow, large trees creating a canopy of varying shades of darkness. Peeta felt as if he had fallen into a hidden world parallel to the one he usually lived, full of responsibilities lessons, everything always so reasonable, so measured. Here, he was free. His fingertips traced patterns along her thighs, tugging at the tantalizing strip of material that, the thought of removing, drove him to the edge of a delirious want.

“And I love you.  Let’s just go home,” he rasped.

“No,” she answered, reaching down between them to cup his erection through his pants, the bulge straining against the material in her hand.  He was speechless, his low grunts and moans echoing in alley.  Soon his zipper was undone and he had her pressed against the wall, her legs that seemed to go on forever wrapped around his waist.

“Are you sure?” he said, looking around at the empty, dark space, hearing the distant sound of voices and traffic but shielded from view by darkness, metal and stone.

Katniss did not answer, clinging to him, her shoulders leveraged against the brick, and let her kisses be her response. He shifted and plunged into her, surrounding himself with her darkness and wet need.  He was terrified someone would be discover them but Katniss’s face was suffused with desire and he forgot his fears, bucking his hips, wild with the idea that he was taking her to the edge, here, of all places and then forgot to think anymore.

His hands cupped her breast through the dress material and squeezed, eliciting from her a moan of pleasure garbled with his name.  Her walls tightened around his cock and he knew she was close so he pressed harder, faster, wanting to see her face light up with the agony of her climax.

“I’m so close,” she said before kissing him, a wild, delirious kiss full of anticipation. He felt her fingers burrow into his hair and pull hard, her body bowing and clenching as she came around him in powerful surges of heat.  He was powerless before that and came in quick thrusts as she subsided, panting and disheveled against the unrelenting wall at her back.

After a few moments in which he leaned his head against her shoulder, recuperating on legs that were made of rubber, she slid down his waist and he set her gently down onto the ground.

“This was not what I expected when I picked you up tonight,” Peeta said as he adjusted himself before helping Katniss smooth out her dress.

“No,” Katniss answered, still husky from her orgasm. “But it was just as good.” She rested her hand on his shoulder as she adjusted her garter, smoothing out the sheer stockings, perhaps searching for a run but miraculously, the delicate material had survived intact.

She ran her hands over his jacket, straightening his bent lapels when she paused at the bulge in his small pocket. “What’s this?”

Peeta frowned, putting a hand over hers. “It’s your anniversary gift. I wanted to give it to you tonight…”

Katniss’s eyes brightened as she rubbed the hard, bulky thing, the shape of the small box now a visible outline through the material of the jacket.  “So?”

He shrugged, slipping the box out of his pocket, no longer as terrified as he was earlier.  Some things, he was sure, he could count on.  “I was hoping for a more picturesque setting.”  He stepped back, opening the box so that she could see the contents inside, thinking,  _ to hell with it all _ , he’d just take this chance too and hope for the best.

Her eyes, as clear as the stone on the ring, flitted between the diamond and his face and back again. She shuttled between shock, tears and happiness.

“This was the best year of my life, Katniss. And I want thirty, forty, fifty years more like it.” He knelt on one knee, the light of a passing car illuminating everything so that it was no longer night but brilliant and golden, like the light of day, before it passed and shrouded everything in a twilight darkness until only the diamond blinked brightly. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Katniss’s hand was over her mouth as she gave in to tears able only to nod vigorously, and allowed him to slip the ring over her finger.  He stood, beaming brightly, thankful that this was nothing like the catastrophe he’d feared or the evening he had planned when he set out on this adventure this afternoon. He was going to apologize for the venue, the restaurant, the dark alley that, despite its tidiness, was still a dark alley in a quaint section of Panem.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, she stopped him with her lips. He pulled her to him and kissed her back, with heat, love, and gratitude.  No apologies. No regrets. They were perfect just as they were, wherever they found themselves. And it was, despite everything that had happened, the most memorable anniversary night.

[ **_Send me a word and I’ll write you a drabble_ ** ](http://titaniasfics.tumblr.com/post/149193948575/send-me-a-word-and-i-will-write-a-drabble)

  
  



	4. Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous. Historic AU, Senator!Peeta, Slave!Katniss.

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

 

“The Consul presents a motion to vote on the measure.  All in favor, say Yea!”

 

Senator Mellark sat resolute, lips pressed thin in disapproval. He would never sanction war on the basis of so little provocation, no matter what pretty speeches and base appeals Senator Snow employed to move the Senate. He was well known for a superior command of rhetoric but often, his devices far exceeded the content within them. Those of a lesser mind would be moved by such words but not Mellark, nor his allies, many of whom agreed, at least in private, about the vacuousness of the elderly Senator’s character.  But few would utter those words in public.

 

No matter. After another hour of calls to action, vacillations and denunciations, Senator Mellark knew his meeting with the other Senators in the weeks leading to this critical vote had been successful.  The look of pure hatred that Snow cast towards him when the vote came down against his initiative was not a figment of Mellark’s imagination but he could care less. He’d won. The country of Panem would not descend into war against its neighbor. Blood would not be shed this day.

 

After receiving congratulations from his coalition, Peeta took the long road home, hoping that a walk would clear his mind.  Snow was a dangerous enemy to have, and he had made him one in a public way. But there were some things that were worth taking a risk on. And sending thousands of men to war with little more than a wound against the pride of a Senator is hardly that motivation, no matter how they tried to misrepresent it.

 

By the time Peeta had returned to his home at the outskirts of the Capitol, his feet were dust covered and he was worn and tired.  He sank onto a settee in the atrium of his home, fig and olive trees hanging heavy with fruit around the ambulatory.  He was tired and could fall fast to sleep but he did not wish to retire right away. He longed for food, rest and, if he was quite sincere, the company of one of his own house.  He waited patiently, knowing his relief would soon come.

 

As if on cue, his preferred slave entered with a tray of delicacies - cheeses, breads, olives and meats, followed by a pair of eunuchs, one carrying the wine decanter and ceramic cup, another carrying a wash basin and towels. Already Peeta felt his body relax, though his heart sprang with newfound vigor at the arrival of his doe.  And though he had never told her, he was sure she knew that he favored her over all the other slaves of his household.

 

The eunuchs bowed and left quickly, leaving Peeta alone with her.

 

“Katniss,” he said, her name escaping his lips like a sigh of relief.

 

“Master,” she said, kneeling onto the marble, undoing the leather ties of his sandals. “You’ve walked far today and have brought all the dust of the Capitol home with you.”

 

“What else would you have to do if I did not conjure such tasks for you?”

 

She smirked as she set both feet in the basin.  “You know full well that I am kept quite occupied by the duties you leave for me each day. And I would not have it otherwise. I earn my keep. That is the way of the people of 12.”

 

She worked vigorously, her olive skin glowing with the easy hue of an unaffected sensuality. Just to look on her set fire to his heart as she soothed his soul. 

 

Her people had been subjugated by General Cato. She was amongst the women brought as booty from the conquest and she had been awarded to his house, for his family had long been allied to that of the General. Such a nervous doe, full of a defiant fear, accustomed to the freedom of the woods. She had no artifice, no guile with which to manage her situation. He took immediate pity on her and made her a maidservant of the house, though there was no lady to order her about. She was his responsibility and though he could do as he pleased with her, from the start, something in him desired to gain her confidence and not force it from her. 

 

It had take months of gentle persuasion but he had finally earned her trust and now, they spoke easily as old friends.  He could never hurt her. He knew this. It had never been his way. And finally, he had convinced his doe of this too.

 

“You are a credit to your people,” he said sincerely before taking a deep breath, dropping his head against the chair, enjoying the feel of her long, slender fingers, washing away the grime and dirt of his travels.

 

When she was done, she removed the dirty water, handing him a cloth for his hands while she discarded the contents of the basin and returned, filling his glass with wine.  Peeta had been picking at the olives, placing the pits in a flat plate for that purpose. “Won’t you sit and eat with me.”

 

“My lord…” Katniss began, smoothing out the folks of her tunic. It was a new one he had bought for her, made of a gentle wool that hung in soft folds over her curves. He could not bear to see her in the coarser fabrics typical of house slaves and had discarded the ones assigned to her, leaving these in her room instead.

 

“I’ve begged you to call me Peeta. Please, Katniss, what honest commune can we have if there are titles between us?”

 

Katniss’s face darkened, a shifting array of feeling from guilt and sadness, to anger and frustration.  “What communion, my lord? When you are my master and I am your slave?”

 

Peeta leaned towards her, repressing a terrible longing to take her hand and hold it until she bade him to stop.  “Is that all you see?  When I see you, I do not see a slave.”

 

“And when I look up at the sky, I do not see the sun. And yet it is there, whether I will it or not.”

 

He was taken aback by her analogy. It was another of the traits of hers that he...admired…so very much. Her intelligence. Her ferocity. His doe was a wild, but tethered creature. He wanted her friendship, desired her free communion, a small concession of affection. But she was not one to give her precious gifts away for free.

 

He stood but did not move towards her. “Come and sit with me. Be my friend. My equal.”

 

She raised her grey eyes to hold his, a look that spoke of a bottomless longing for home, of fear and vulnerability, and another sentiment, hidden deep in the flecks of color that burst like starlight. He was captivated by a terrible longing and he realized, it was not just friendship he wanted from her. He loved her, like a tree loves the wind, like the forest embraces fire, like the sea hugs at the shores.  And it frightened. He would take her hand, her arms, her body, her heart, and cradle each thing against the likes of General Cato and Senator Snow, against the forces that he hated yet had brought her to his door.

 

For an eternal moment, they held each other’s gaze, unable to move, at a stalemate. His greatest fear was not defeat at the hands of his adversaries but that his doe would turn away, keep to her place in the forest and never cross over to his side again.  And he could do no better than wait like a stupid beast for her pleasure, because terror kept him rooted to his place.

 

And then the moment passed, as all things do. Katniss dropped her eyes, heaved a shaky breath and turned away. For a moment, Peeta’s heart felt like heavy granite shattering on the side of a mountain, its jagged pieces tumbling in a hail of dust and rock to the bottom of a quarry. He might have even died - he could not be sure.  But then her hesitation visibly fell away and she turned back to take the seat next to the one he had vacated, reaching toward a plump fig on the platter. Peeta picked up the fruit and knelt before her handing it to her in his outstretched hand.

 

“This one?” he asked tremulously.

 

“Yes,” she said, taking it from him, staring at the swollen fig a moment longer than necessary.  “Thank you, Peeta.”


	5. Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everlark - from Madge’s POV. As @akai-echo said, she is all of us Everlark shippers! Thanks also to @thegirlfromoverthepond, who preread it as well. You guys keep me going. In Panem AU. 
> 
> I’ve never written a piece like this one before.

**Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage.**

 

Marriages fail, not because the people involved are bad (sometimes they are but that’s not as common as you would think).  No, they fail because the people involved should have never been there to begin with.

 

At least, that’s how I would describe the way my best friend’s marriage fell apart.

 

In the beginning, it was universally expected that, out of the two of us, I would be the one to marry first. After all, I’m the daughter of District 12’s Mayor. I’m a Merchant which, according to the most superficial people, makes me a catch.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, relatively affluent - who wouldn’t jump all over that, right?

 

And on the other side was my best friend, Katniss Everdeen. Seam. Dirt poor. And, to those who didn’t know her, she had a character that was more sour than a lemon.  But she was one of the most self-sufficient people in District 12. She went outside the fence to hunt, gather herbs and fruit, all of which she’d bring to the Hob to trade for the things her family needed.  She might not have shared a lot of herself with others but she loved her mother and sister and took the best possible care of them that she could. However, to most, she was simply dour and had the most intimidating scowl that I’ve yet to see on anyone else.

 

Anyone else except for Gale Hawthorne, her hunting partner.  I have to admit, I was always a little sweet on him, ever since he showed up at our house to trade fresh strawberries by the pint. Now he had a stinker of a scowl, if I ever saw one, with his air of superiority, as if being perpetually pissed off at life was somehow a virtue.  It wasn’t, and he mostly made me want to throttle him when he scanned my dresses from top to bottom and twisted his mouth in disgust. It was hardly my fault he’d been born into poverty and to tell the truth, I had no use for all the crap that was given to me anyway.  Not that I could tell him that - he wouldn’t have believed a word from me.

 

But I watched the way he took care of his little brothers and sisters, how he looked after Katniss and her sister, Prim.  He was like the Pied Piper when Seam kids followed him around, asking him to teach them some skill or other. And he not only allowed it. He seemed to enjoy their company. That’s when his scowl evaporated. The palpable anger at everyone and everything fell away and he became almost affable. And that, right there, was the Gale who slayed me, every time. 

 

But Gale really only had eyes for Katniss. Not at first, mind you, when they began hunting together.  But after awhile.  He was like a magnet that got stronger and stronger with the passing of time. Even after, when I was sure Katniss actually had a full-blown crush on the baker’s boy and didn't once give Gale the illusion of romance, he wanted her.  Hell, I think watching Peeta Mellark make moon eyes at Katniss when they went to trade squirrel for bread probably made him want her even more.  There is nothing that brings out the cave man more than watching your woman being desired by someone else. 

 

It didn't help that people always said that if Katniss ever did get married, it would have to be with Gale, because he hung around with her like a long shadow in summer. They were both Seam, both dark and grey-eyed, both accomplished hunters.  For folks who loved things that squared,  theirs was a match that appeared ordained by fate. 

 

I just wish someone had told that to Katniss.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Even with the ready-made love interest, people were just waiting for me to be the one to toast the bread.  We even joked about it - Katniss teased that I’d be married and knocked up by the time I was twenty.  I didn’t think of it one way or the other, to tell the truth. My attitude has always been, if it happens, it happens. I was pretty neutral to the idea of matrimony either way. Katniss, resolutely, was not. 

 

And yet despite that, life decided it had other ideas for us. Funny how things work out.

 

It was curiosity, Katniss had said. All those hours in the woods.  Hormones.  Loneliness.  A practical (read - pessimistic) part of her brain that had convinced her that her feelings for Peeta would never lead to anything. Soon she was at my house with the words she thought she'd never have uttered.

 

“It only happened once,” I said, trying to console her. But her mother was the apothecary’s daughter. There was no fooling her.

 

“One time was all it took.”  Katniss had rebutted. 

 

Soon after that, I caught a glimpse of Peeta Mellark, ducking his head into his collar as he walked to the train station.  His light skin had gone from fair to grey and the circles under his eyes spoke of tortured nights or crying jags or perhaps both at the same time.  And I scolded Katniss that day. It was the only time we ever argued.

 

“You don’t understand, Madge. All he ever did was flirt with me. It’s not like it would have ever worked out anyway. His mother…”

 

“You are going to regret this, Katniss Everdeen!  I can’t stand by and watch you give yourself to a man you don’t love! You march directly over to Peeta Mellark and you tell him that you love him, that this was all a mistake -”

 

“I can’t!” Katniss shouted, her eyes wild with desperation. “He won’t want me now, if he ever did. Who would?  With another man’s child in my belly?  A Seam whore, that’s what he’ll think me!” Katniss buried her face and burst into heart-breaking sobs and all my indignation fell to the ground.

 

“Foolish girl,” I said, holding her as she cried in my arms as I had never in my life seen her do. Not even when she accepted the medal on behalf of her father after he died in the mine explosion did Katniss shed a public tear.  But there she was, falling to pieces in my arms and all I could do was hold her.  What else was there to do?

 

And so a month later, Katniss both defied and met all the expectations about her. As soon as the announcements were made, she put on her mother’s powder blue dress, weaved the braids through her hair and did her duty to give her unborn child the name of its father.  Everyone in town stood at the foot of the Justice Building, singing the marriage song, congratulating the newlywed couple.  Mrs. Mellark was particularly enthusiastic about their union, even going so far as to gift them with a plate of cookies to share after their toasting. 

 

There was one glaring absence, however, but it was to be expected. Peeta was kind and magnanimous. But you couldn’t expect the poor guy to subject himself to that. Everyone had a limit and clearly, watching Katniss marry Gale exceeded his.

 

Even I had trouble sitting through it.  

 

**XXXXX**

 

To hear Katniss speak of it, her parents had the ideal relationship. This was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, she knew what love looked like, even if it had ended so soon with her father’s death.  They married for love and had risked everything to be together, especially Mrs. Everdeen, who was cast out from her family for marry a Seam man and had to endure the gossip and opprobrium of the Merchant class.  Poverty was the best that they could hope for. And yet Katniss described her family as happy, filled with love and unity.

 

But this was a double-edged sword. Katniss had not married for love. She neither expected nor gave the small affections she’d observed her mother exchanging with her father. In their little government-assigned house in the Seam, Katniss had brought the idea of love with her but the execution was lacking and both she and her husband perceived it.

 

“He says I’m cold,” she complained, rubbing the small swell of her belly.

 

“What do you think?” I asked.  

 

“I think…” she looked out the window forlornly. There, beyond the circle, caddy-corner to the butcher shop, was the roof of the bakery. “I think I’ll just try harder.”

 

I couldn’t fathom it. To pretend. To force yourself to do something that should come as easily as breathing. I dug around for a chocolate bar and did not let her leave until she’d finished it. I knew her. She’d end up taking a piece to Prim, Rory, Posy, Vick, her mother, Hazel, even Gale and leave nothing but the smell of chocolate on the wrapping for herself. Next to nothing. That’s all she ever seemed to leave for herself.  How could someone survive on so little?

 

**XXXXX**

 

Viola was born in the fall. Katniss’s own mother delivered the baby. For the first time since she got married, I saw Katniss smile. Not a forced smile of obligation, but the sincere smile of deep contentment.  All the love that Katniss held in her heart, she showered it on that beautiful little girl.  And Katniss was full of love, as if all the love that she couldn’t show her husband, all the love that she’d had to defer in her life, was redirected towards her daughter.

 

As Viola grew, it seemed like the more attention and love Katniss gave her little girl, the more resentful Gale became. My guess is that maybe he could have accounted for his wife’s coldness as a natural consequence of her character, just a part of who she was. But her comportment with Viola, the absolute abandon with which she loved her little girl revealed that Katniss could indeed be affectionate, meaning she simply could not or would not give that same attention to her husband. So instead of binding them together, the baby began the inexorable deterioration of the fragile threads that held their marriage together.

 

The worse things got at home, the more time Katniss stayed away. When Viola was still an infant, she carried her in a sling, like the women of old. She spent long hours in the woods, hunting, simply nursing her child when she demanded it. As Viola grew, she played with her, gathering flowers, nuts, even small animals, showing her everything beautiful that the woods held.  

 

To his credit, Gale was an attentive father, taking Viola with him wherever he went when he was not working in the mines. But increasingly, as the first year passed into the second one, Gale and Katniss were rarely seen together in town anymore.  They still hunted together on Sundays, leaving Viola with Hazel or Prim.  But they rarely spoke of anything anymore, except for the hunt.  

 

“It’s like we’ve gone back to being hunting partners. We can talk about snares and traps and where best to find a flock of wild turkeys.  But we can’t talk about our hearts, because there’s nothing left in them,” Katniss told me. It wasn’t with sadness that she said this, more like a distant, vague regret.  She was lonely and her loneliness was so profound, it seemed like she would never find a way to cast it off again.

 

During the week, when Katniss wore herself out hunting, she’d visited her mother and her sister, or came through town to see me.  More and more often, Gale took his dinner at his mother’s house. 

 

Despite the slow death of her relationship with Gale, Viola remained the spark of her fire.  When she was with her daughter, Katniss changed and became another version of herself. She sang openly. She sang to that little girl no matter where she was - on the road, in the Hob, down by the opening of the fence.  She hummed and she crooned and sometimes, she sang her father’s songs and anyone who was nearby stopped to listen to a voice that could make even the birds fall silent. And she cared not a whit if anyone heard her. She went everywhere with Viola and whenever her daughter demanded it, she sang to her.

 

The only place she never went near was the bakery - I knew she couldn’t bear to risk to even look at Peeta’s face.  

 

“You could just say hello. Three years is a long time to hold a grudge,” I said.

 

Katniss laughed bitterly. “Grudge?  You think that’s why I’ve stayed away from him all this time?  Because of a grudge? What would I have to hold against him?” She sipped the tea I’d prepared for us and picked up a frosted cookie I’d laid out, one that no doubt had been decorated by Peeta’s own hand.  She caressed it with the tip of her finger as if she were tracing the contours of her lover’s face.

 

“I stayed away because with one word, just one provocation, I swear on my life, I’d have gotten right up out of my little house, gone to his bakery and lain across his back steps, begging him to take me back. That’s what I’d have done. That’s why I never go there.” 

 

“Still?  You still won’t go there?”

 

Katniss didn’t answer the question directly, instead continuing her narration as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “He would have made me change my mind, Madge.  He would have tried to talk me out of it and I would have let him.” Her grey eyes were round and glassy. “Do you know, I didn’t even tell him?  Wrote him a letter and gave it to Prim to deliver to him.”

 

“Katniss, you didn’t!” I said. How could I not fuss at her?  How many times had I tried to talk her out of her folly? But Katniss did what Katniss wanted and there wasn’t a man or woman strong enough to make her do otherwise.

 

“I did,” she glanced from my face to stare at Viola, who was holding a pencil awkwardly in her hand and doodling on a blank paper. She was four years old now and soon, old enough to go to school.

 

“Madge, he has someone else,” she said, her voice curiously dead, empty of all emotion.

 

“Peeta?  He’s seeing someone?” I asked, wracking my brain for anything I might have heard and not minded closely, because if Peeta was dating someone, I would have heard it by now.

 

“Not Peeta. Gale.”

 

“What?

 

Katniss nodded, standing to walk towards the window. She hadn’t lost her wiry build but child birth had widened her hips and given her curves she hadn’t had before.  Sometimes it struck me how naturally beautiful Katniss was, and how compelling her complete obliviousness to this fact could make her to others.  Everyone except perhaps her husband.

 

“Some slag whore,” she said dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. He hasn’t touched me in years, so that isn’t why I’m angry.”

 

“You’re angry?” I said, taken completely aback. Katniss didn’t appear jealous or possessive and sometimes even went out of her way to not bring up Gale in a conversation, as if he were an inconvenient fact she could overlook by simply willing it.

 

“Of course I’m angry!  I gave up everything…” she glanced out the window of the living room again and I was certain her eyes caressed the eaves of the bakery building. “I sacrificed my...my love...to marry him and do right by Viola. How dare him try to connive and find happiness when I’m so fucking miserable!” she slammed her fist against her leg, flinching when she realized she’d hurt herself.  

 

“Then why are you still with him?  Don’t you think you are both entitled to find your happiness with other people, if you want to, and not continue to make each other suffer?”

 

Katniss looked down, shaking her head before taking her seat again. “My mother and father loved each other so much. They created a home for us. They would have never gotten a divorce.”

 

“Because they loved each other!  Katniss, this is death,” I got up and knelt before her. “You’re killing yourself, you’re hurting Gale and you’re creating a terrible environment for Viola. Do you want her to live like you do?”

 

“No!” Katniss stood up again, up and down, pacing, tugging painfully at her braid. “I want her to have everything I couldn’t have.  I want her to be with someone who loves her and who she loves back or never get married at all!”

 

“But what is she learning from you but that marriage does not equal love but obligation?  She takes the world that you give her. Is this the world you want for her?”

 

Katniss shook her head vigorously. “No, no I don’t!” She leaned her head against the window that offered the smallest part of a view of the bakery. 

 

“I want her to be happy with herself, with whatever decisions she makes. I don’t want her to have regrets.” She turned so that her face was in profile, her eyes lost in a memory that I was not privy to. “I want her to be with whoever she chooses, for no other reason but because it’s what she wants. I want…I want her to find love and stick to it.” she sniffed. “I don’t want her to turn out like me.”

 

XXXXX

 

The divorce was finalized that very summer. Though Katniss could have opted to stay in the small Seam house, she returned to her childhood home. Prim was already a healer as capable as her mother and they did well for themselves so the house was cozier than it had been when Katniss lived there.   The three women did their best to help Viola’s transition to the new house, decorating the room she shared with Katniss with her few toys and dresses.  Gale continued to be a good father and, despite some animosity, Katniss knew that some day, she might be able to get to a point where she could hunt with him again.  Just not yet.

 

After many lost days, where she managed her life between the forest and her home, Katniss rejoined town life. At first, there were whispers and gossip, for District 12 was still a relatively small and conservative place. People didn’t get divorced every day.  But Katniss ignored them, trading at the Hob and even setting up a stand eventually to sell her hauls, now that Viola had started school.

 

In spring of that year, the day came when Katniss felt like she needed to have closure in every aspect of her life. I had been helping my father in the Justice Hall for years and was now an administrative staff member in my own right, still not married, with no immediate plans to do so and very satisfied with that state of affairs.  When Katniss came to my office, twisting the strap of her leather bag in her hand and told me what she had in mind, I nodded in approval.

 

“You should have done this years ago,” I said, locking up my desk.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

 

“You’re my friend. I’m not going to let you walk down that road alone. I’ll take you to the bakery door and then leave you to do what you have to do.”  I smirked. “And when you’re finished, you will come directly to this office and you tell me every single last detail of what happened!”

 

Katniss smiled, her grip on her bag relaxing. “You can count on it.”

 

We walked out of the large, imposing grey building, down the steps that were in need of a good repair. (I’d have to talk to my father about that).  We crossed the plaza, reaching the building with the sign, Mellark Family Bakery, swaying gently in the wind.

 

“Remember. Everything!” I admonished, to which she nodded maniacally before turning to push the glass door of the shop, the bell tinkling happily at her entry.

 

I have to admit. I’ve been invested in this story from the very beginning. I couldn’t just leave her like that. I stepped across the street, nestling on a bench next to which grew leafy tree whose leaves offered some cover. It wasn’t the best view, as the large window of the shop, held ornately decorated cakes that obstructed what was going on inside.

 

But I needn’t have worried. Soon the bell of the shop door tinkled again and out stepped Peeta, apron in hand, with Katniss a step behind him.  They walked slowly along the lane and it was clear from the set of their shoulders that they were wary of each other. Soon, however, I saw Katniss speak, haltingly at first, then with more energy as whatever she had held onto so tightly in her heart all of these years came tumbling out.  Peeta’s eyes widened, then softened as she spoke and in many instances, he responded in kind, sometimes furrowing his brow, sometimes shaking his head. There was disbelief, shock, compassion, and even in one moment, anger.

 

And then something miraculous happened. In mid-sentence, he pulled her into his arms and held her.  Katniss never had anything to say but I guess there were times where you either spoke up or you shattered and she was at that point. But though she still spoke, she did not resist his embrace. She brought her arms up around his waist and squeezed until finally, she fell silent. She’d said her piece and Peeta simply held her for a very long while. They even swayed in the soft breeze but he didn’t let her go and neither did she. 

 

I wiped at my cheeks, finding them wet with tears, though I don’t remember actually crying . They continued to hold each other, saying things, whispering, muttering, sometimes even cooing like the gentle mourning doves that perched in the tree branches outside my window.  And I was proud of my friend. Proud and relieved and full of joy. Because standing like that, nestled in Peeta’s arms, Katniss might have finally found something that would be as easy as breathing.

 

[ **_Send me a word and I’ll write a drabble_ ** ](http://titaniasfics.tumblr.com/post/149193948575/send-me-a-word-and-i-will-write-a-drabble)

  
  



	6. Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Red Rising/The Hunger Games Crossover. Everlark, of course. Rated T. I own nothing regard Red Rising or The Hunger Games. The quote below is almost verbatim from the novel Red Rising, by Pierce Brown. Darrow!Katniss (Mockingjay), Virginia!Peeta (Logos), Cassius!Madge, Fichtner!Haymitch, Titus!Cato, Nero Augustus!Cornelius Snow

**Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder**

 

**_Suddenly, he struck her as something new, something hopeful. Like a dandelion to her deep winter._ **

 

She was dying.

 

She felt blood drain from the wound Madge had left in her stomach, a gaping hole of flesh and pain that made her curl into a ball and cry into the snow-frozen ground. Pain and tears. She didn’t care. She was dying. What did it matter if the Sponsors and Governors and Generals of the Capitol thought her weak? She was dying and her rebellion with her. Not in the mines of District 12. Not in the Cornucopia. Not at the hands of the intrigues of Cato and Marvel, who even now exulted in the conquest of her House.  No, she had been felled by the hands of her once friend. Betrayed. But she had known it was coming. Because she had betrayed her first.

 

She dreamed of her sister and her mother in the Meadow, safe in the afterlife with all the others she’d lost. When the world around her faded to black, it was her sister’s hand who led her away from life, petting her hair, whispering to her, though it seemed her words came to her as if across a muddied lake.  A deep voice, garbled by her pain, reached her as she was uncurled and carried and Katniss realized the hands that held her were not Prim’s.

 

**XXXXX**

 

She woke in a place where light danced above her between an intricate, ever-changing web of shadow. She felt her body - aching and raw - which made her wonder why she would carry her mortal pain into the Meadow.  Slowly, as every twinge and throb of her body returned to her consciousness, she came to the disappointing conclusion that she was still in this body and was decidedly not dead.

 

In this body. Alien.  Foreign. Even now, having lived in it for nearly a year, she felt herself as separate from the giant, lithe, muscular body of gold and light.  She would in her mind, always be the small, dark, grey-eyed creature of the forest.  She was not born to be in the sun, but to contrast it. Challenge it like the moon who erects her kingdom in the night sky.  Not this body. It was not hers. It will never be hers.  Even if she had endured months of agonies from surgeries and treatments to make her the perfect weapon against the Capitol, this would never really be her. 

 

All was quiet and she realized she might be at the opening of a cave, the fire behind her casting the shapes of nonexistent things on the walls.  Her head swam but she forced it to turn anyway. Someone was sleeping beside her, buried deep in the furs to ward off the cold.  Katniss wanted to call out, to discover who her benefactor was, for if she was still alive, she must owe it to the person next to her. But aside from the golden hair that sprawled wild and tangled on the fur, hair that defined the Capitol ruling class, she could not be sure who it was.

 

She shifted, the wound in her abdomen protesting, and pulled softly on the edge of the fur.  She couldn’t believe her eyes. Logos.  Head of the House of Minerva. In fact, he slept with the standard snuggled next to him. As long as he held that standard, his house could not be considered defeated. He was still in the game, even if all his people were captured by other houses. 

 

But that didn’t explain why she wasn’t dead. It didn’t explain the sweet way in which he slept, little bursts of air issuing from his lips, the gentle rise and fall of his broad chest.  The utter trust with which he laid next to her and the obvious care he’d taken of her wounds.  She thought of the voice she’d heard as she drifted into unconsciousness and realized how much she missed her sister’s hands - hands that healed even better than her mother’s. She missed her family, her home, the woods of her District. And so, while her erstwhile enemy and savior slept beside her, she wept, because she wanted it to be her sister. And she knew it was something she could never have again.

 

Somehow, in her grief, she’d fallen asleep. The next time she woke, it was to the sound of humming. His back was turned as he tended the fire, a rough voice becoming child-like with the tune. He couldn't know the words, couldn't know the song he was singing, how it had condemned one girl to death and her sister to a life devoted to the dream of rebellion.  Could not know the deaths that shadowed it.

 

“Where did you hear that song?” I asked, voice thick with sleep.

 

“The holo,” He turned, gold eyes wide with a sadness she couldn't place. “A girl sang it once. Sticks to you.” He stood suddenly and though he was not the tallest of the tributes, he was powerfully built - broad shoulders, thick arms - though his time in hiding had weakened him. Suddenly, he struck her as something new, something hopeful. LIke a dandelion to her deep winter, though thunder and ice winds roared outside.

 

“Why did you save me?” she asked, automatically scanning for a weapon. Standing over her, he reminded her of how very vulnerable she was and she cursed her willingness to remain weak.

 

He shrugged.  “You know why.”

 

She did know. The night she and her Lieutenants, Madge and Cato, hunted the woods for Logos when his house had been besieged. Cato, already known for his depravity, threatening to make Logos his personal slave. Ride him like a horse. Katniss knew what Cato had been on and about and knew also that Logos did not deserve such a fate. When she saw him, hiding in the snow and mulch of decayed foliage, she'd turned and led her people away.

 

Maybe like the slaves of District 12, Capitol Gold could not tolerate a debt.

 

She nodded to the standard in Logos’ hand. “Kept yourself in the game. What's your plan?”

 

“Stay alive,” he said, kneeling to hand her a stick with meat, likely from a roasted hare. Her stomach nearly cramped in hunger.

 

“What about you, Mockingjay? You don't strike me as the type to take defeat lying down, no matter the comfort or the compelling company.” He flashed her a devilish smile to which she could not help rolling her eyes.  “What's your plan?”

 

Her plan? She was carried by her sister's song, the one that had condemned her to death. Her life belonged to her. She came to ascend. She came to rule. She came to destroy. She came to liberate.

 

She could not tell this to Logos, though. Much as she was grateful to him, much as she felt the bond between them grow and strengthen, he was Capitol. He was a Gold, son of the ruling class. Katniss was a slave from the lowest district, masquerading as a Gold, for one purpose - to end their oppressive rule forever. She could ill afford to trust her enemies. No matter what alliances she built here, they would all fall in the end.

 

“There can only be one. And it will be me.”

 

Logos chuckled, shaking his head. “Who says?  Who said there must only be one winner?”

 

“Those are the rules,” Katniss answered, sounding petulant to her own ears.

 

He came within an inch of her face. “Those who are strongest make the rules. Or will you continue to be a piece in their games, Mockingjay?”

 

Katniss leaned in so that their noses nearly touched. “You mock me, Logos. I’ve lost my house, my standard. I’m broken and betrayed. Why trifle with words? I will leave and find my victory. Our debt to each other is fulfilled.”

 

Logos leaned back, his playful expression morphing into the elusive, sad expression of earlier. “You are better than that.  You are like an arrow aflame, driven to your goal. You ruled your House with fear and anger and all you earned was betrayal.”

 

“What else are we here for but to win?” she spat.

 

“To learn.  You have to live for more.”

 

“Why does it matter to you? Are you going to submit what remains of your House, your standard, to my leadership?  You could make me your slave if you wanted to. Why bother?”

 

He leaned back, eyeing her. “What good are you to me as a slave?  You were not meant to be enslaved.  You can win.  I’ve seen how others looked to you when your leadership was not poisoned with fear.  You don’t know the effect you can have on others.” He stood, pacing the cave.

 

The Games they were playing required tributes to battle other Houses until only one house was left standing.  A victory would bring an apprenticeship,  power, influence, armies.  On her own, Katniss was nothing. But as a General of her own army, she could free her District from slavery.  

 

“Your House would never have betrayed you,” she said glumly.

 

“Because people like me. I’m more political. I’m no general but I’m the smartest person you’ll ever meet in your life,” Logos’s words made Katniss’s eyes widen but he continued. “No one fears me but I do have their respect.  People fear you but some also resent your leadership.  You have to fix that. Mockingjay,” he knelt before her, those terrible eyes boring down into her so that she was sure he could see who she really was.  “I don’t have my House but I do have my standard.  I cannot be thrown out of the Games unless my standard is taken.  I propose an alliance.  You help me free House Minerva from Cato’s power and I will help you win House Mars back.” 

 

Katniss felt the ache in her midsection again, the way she couldn’t shift without being lanced with a sharp, crippling pain. She’d lain there for days and would need more time. They were both weak - her from her wound and Logos from hiding alone in his cave, his people lost to him.  Alone they were nothing.  But together they might be able to get back what they’d lost.  

 

“I accept your offer,” Katniss said, adding, “Thank you.”

 

Logos’s eyes widened. “Did you just thank me? I’m already making progress here! Now, eat and rest. You are not fit to move yet.”

 

Katniss did as she was told, reclining on her skins while he explained what the situation of the other Houses was.  The Houses were raiding each other, skirmishing throughout the highlands but the situation was stagnant. No one House had the advantage over the others. Mars had taken House Minerva but the strongest houses still stood. Winter made hunting more difficult and besieging one another was out of the question.

 

“It’s as you left it.” Logos said. “Winter is the Victor at the moment.”

 

Katniss was sleepy again and did not have the energy to follow Logos’s words any longer. When a bitter wind blew in from the cave opening, Logos adjusted the entrance and settled down into his furs, covering them both so that their body heat would warm them.  She didn’t admit it to him, but she felt safe, safer than she’d felt in a long time. And when she felt his arms around her in the middle of the night, cast unconsciously over her in sleep, she didn’t shrug him off. She hadn’t been touched in a kind way since she was spirited away from her District to undergo the transformation to Gold and even though he was unaware of his position, she accepted his offering nonetheless and allowed herself to drift back to sleep cocooned in the protection of his arms.

 

**XXXXX**

 

It was weeks before Katniss felt herself return to normal. Logos told her he was able to heal her with medicine left conspicuously near the cave, no doubt by a sympathetic Gamemaker.  She ventured out from the cave to hunt but could barely nock her arrow and so they were forced to subsist on hares and whatever small animals they were able to find.  Food were getting harder to find, a situation confirmed by the wolves that howled in hunger at night.

 

As the winter wore on, they were forced to subsist on so very little. Logos began to weaken and soon developed a cough that barked out into the night. Katniss at first did not worry, giving him boiled water with the rare herb that could still be found. But he worsened, his fever rising. He took to shivering at night, under the blankets.  Katniss became strong enough to take down a deer and brought her bounty back, hoping to strengthen Logos but it was all she could do to persuade him to eat any of it.

 

Katniss became angry, then desperate. This was supposed to be a Game, a training ground for Golds to learn to become leaders. Their performance would dictate the apprenticeships and positions they would earn once the Games were over.  Yet there had been murder, rape and every manner of deprivation. Their mentors helped them very little and the different Houses enjoyed advantages to varying degrees, demonstrating that resources were distributed differently, giving Houses unfair advantages.

 

“I don’t get it.  This is not the way the Games are supposed to go.”

 

Logos rested, beset by weakness, but listened to her ruminations.  “It’s because the Mentors already know who will win.”

 

“They do that?” Katniss said in disgust.

 

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?  House Ceres had horses, House Apollo had weapon.  House Pluto has armor and advanced technology. We had the ovens. House Mars?  They got your winning personality.” He chuckled weakly.  “You were not favored to win and the Mentors know it.”

 

Katniss leaned back on her haunches, becoming angrier by the moment. “I need to speak to my Mentor.”

 

“Good luck with that. Haymitch hasn’t shown his face anywhere since Mars took House Minerva.”

 

“We’ll see about that!” Katniss fumed. She stomped out of the cave and down the slope, as far as she could from the cave.  “Haymitch, you gorydamn son of a bitch!  You drunken, dog-fucking cur of a troll! You better come down here!  You useless, drunken Pixie! No, you’re not a Pixie!  You’re the turd of a Pixie!  You’re Pixie crotch rot!”

 

Katniss continued her insults, adding his mother, his sister, even his pets for good measure. She had never said anything so foul in her life. She was downright vile and she knew, if she wasn’t careful, she might call down a raiding or reconnaissance party on her but she knew she needed Haymitch. Logos was dying and she needed answers.

 

After fifteen minutes, in which Katniss’s voice became raw with shouting, a shimmer in the snow caught her attention and she knew she’d been successful. The ghost-cloak hiding Haymitch dissolved, revealing the disheveled man.

 

“That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you, Sweetheart,” he said.

 

“Nothing that’s never been said to you in bed before,” she retorted, to which Haymitch laughed merrily.

 

“Ah, so the Mockingjay has a sense of humor. I was beginning to wonder there for a minute.” He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.  “Well, you summoned. I came. What do you want?”

 

“I want you to stop being a liar and a cheat and help your House win.  These Games are rigged and I don’t take to kindly to being cheated.”

 

“Whoa!” he said, turning a switch on his belt. A clear shield, tinted blue, came down over both of them. A jammer. It was the closest anyone could get to privacy in these Games.

 

“You need to be a little less reckless when throwing out accusations like that, sweetheart. Heads roll that way.”

 

“Fuck you and fuck your head. So it’s true?  House Mars has been thwarted and kept from winning?”

 

Haymitch sighed.  “It’s not just House Mars. Snow’s son is the Primus for House Pluto. His father has greased the oils of victory, so to speak.”

 

“You mean, Snow bribed all of you.  These Games are a farce and students are starving and dying, even though you know who the winner is going to be?” Katniss spat, her anger building. It was good that she had no weapons or she might have had to part Haymitch’s head from the rest of his body.

 

“Look, you are a favorite. No matter what you do from here on out, generals and governors are already climbing all over each other to offer you a contract.  Just stay alive and stay out of Snow’s way.  This isn’t worth getting hurt over.”

Katniss stared at her mentor in disbelief. The only thing she had ever been able to say about the Golds, even as they trampled the Districts underfoot, is that they respected their hierarchy. Honor and merit mattered more than anything else. To discover that even this, their highest value, was also a lie was a shocking disillusion and provoked Katniss’s fury.

 

“I’m going to win this,” she said quietly.  “And you’re going to help me.”

 

Haymitch’s eyes went wide before he laughed in her face.  “And why would I do that?”

 

Katniss stepped up to him, fully aware of the way she must look to him - dirty, thin, wasted by winter, hunger and injury.  She wore an animal pelt that hadn’t been cured properly and stunk of decay.  She was a feral beast who he’d just enraged further by his callousness - his and his entire race. She fervently hoped that her appearance offended him. 

 

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell a little story that I heard, about mentors and bribery and a certain President who doesn’t respect his society’s rules enough to allow his precious son to win by merit.  I’m going to sing like my namesake. And what do you think the other Capitol families are going to think about their darlings dying in a sham game just so the heir to the Snow family can go home a Victor?”

 

Haymitch squinted at her, looking like he was ready to slap her.  “You wouldn’t go doing that, now, would you, Mockingjay. Bad things can still happen to you out here. And you don’t want to piss off your mentor.”

 

Empty threats. Katniss knew she had him. Her mind raced as she developed a new plan.

 

“Fat lot of good you’ve been to me so far.  But we’re going to change that. I’m going to need a few things to help me keep quiet. First things first, I have a friend who isn’t feeling too good…”

 

**XXXXX**

 

Katniss raced back to the cave, carrying a syringe with antibiotics, food and the excitement that comes with having a vision and knowing what to do next.  She couldn’t wait for Logos to be rid of the fever, to have his wit and humor back, for his illness had robbed him of his vitality and left her lonely. She didn’t want to think about what it all meant but she missed her ally and wanted him healthy again.

 

As she neared the cave, she knew something was wrong by the way the thatched entrance cover had been ripped aside. Pulling out her bow, she nocked the arrow, holding it before her. Chuckling and conversation came from outside - two male voices, neither of whom was Logos. A glance down into the snow revealed two sets of footsteps leading into the cave mouth.

 

She crouched down, creeping on silent feet to peer around the edge of the opening. There, she saw the two intruders, dressed in pelts that were in worse wear than theirs. One boy ate hungrily at the stores of leftover deer, barely pausing to breathe, while another sat on Logos’s chest, slapping him playfully as he gnawed at a the meat on a bone. Logos was too weak to fight them off but his face held no fear, just aggravation at being manhandled. They were not part of a raiding party but possibly two escaped slaves, living in the woods, in hiding until the Games were over.

 

She crept closer and let her arrow fly. Her aim was still not what it was, so the arrow aimed at the boy’s neck ended in his shoulder instead. However, the blow was enough to knock him off of Logos. She had her arrow ready to fly before the boy hit the ground and this time, her aim would be true. 

 

As she pulled back, Logos called feebly from the bed, “Katniss. Don’t.”

 

At the sound of my name, she paused.  She saw the terror in the boy’s eyes, his mouth still full of meat. The other one was lying on his side, moaning from his injury.  She glanced at Logos, whose large, feverish eyes implored her to do better, be better. And when she looked back at the invaders, she saw what he saw - two desperate young men who were lean with hunger and exposure from the elements. They had done nothing to earn death and yet it stalked them from the tip of her arrow. She relaxed her hold on her arrow, setting the bow aside and pulling out a knife instead.

 

“Finish your meat,” she ordered the one boy while she hoisted the wounded boy from the ground and pulling the arrow out of his arm.  She dressed the wound, which had not gone deeply and would heal.  After, she tied them both and led them outside. They walked for an interminable amount of time before she found the sentry tower for House Jupiter.  Careful not to be seen, she tied the two men close by.

 

“The sentries will be out soon. You will be found and you will not die this day.”

 

Like a shadow, Katniss turned around and raced across the snow, returning to the cave just after the setting sun. She found Logos shivering under his blanket, the fever spiking with the onset of night.  She pulled open the pack she’d been given by Haymitch and immediately administered the medication. Logos glance at her with the questions in his eyes but he did not press, too weak to wonder at the appearance of the medicine, or the thermos of soup that she untwisted.  Careful not to spill any of the precious liquid, she fed him slowly, coaxing him to eat until he had finished all of it.

 

“How?” he finally whispered.

 

“You’d be surprised how far blackmail can take you. Now rest. I’ll keep watch over you,” she said the same words she’d often said to her sister. The memory made her breath catch and she turned away to keep Logos from seeing the pain in her face.

 

“Don’t,” he said, laying a hand on her. “Don’t turn away.  What makes you so sad?”

 

“I…” she stopped herself. It would be too much to reveal, too much to expose, and yet, she desperately wanted someone to know her, to know the real her. But he was Gold, she would have to betray him one day.  No matter how he made her feel, no matter his kindness, his gentleness, she was here to destroy his society, not befriend him. 

 

Even so, she crawled under the covers next to him, wrapping her arms around him and told him about Prim. How sweet she had always been, the better of the two sisters. How she loved animals and people and could not see a living creature in pain. She told him about her braids, her “ducktail,” her healing hands, how she was the only person who could make her smile. And that when she’d died, all the light of Katniss’ life had left with her. 

 

She didn’t tell him about the flogging, about her sister’s song, which had gotten her killed. She was vague about it, claiming illness as the cause and not the injustice that had had led Katniss on a path to being changed and brought to the Games. That was a part she must always keep for herself. But what she could share, she did, until silence was the end of her story and it was she who was being held by the Golden boy who thought she could be more than a sword. More maybe than just vengeance.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said and it felt more than personal, as if he were offering that small gesture on behalf of every Gold who had ever trampled a lower District. She could accept an apology from Logos. But it would take more than an apology from the Golds to rectify hundreds of years of oppression.

 

“Sleep, now, my friend.  You’ll need your strength. We have Games to win.” she said.  

 

“You are nothing if not ambitious. Where do we start?” he asked, sleep already edging into his voice.

 

She lifted her head to peer down at him, more happy than she’d thought she would be at the sight of his returning health. “At home. We start by taking back both of our Houses.”  Together, she added to herself. She’d figure out a way for them to do it together.


	7. Baiseman - A kiss on the hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This drabble, requested by anon, also combines a prompt by the lovely @que-sera-sera88: Everlark- “Remember when we were in high school and we swore that if we were still single at 30 we’d marry each other, well hey guess whose birthday it is?” Except they made this promise in college. Modern au. First time kiss.

**Baiseman - A kiss on the hand**

 

**This drabble also combines a prompt by the lovely @que-sera-sera88:** **Everlark- “Remember when we were in high school and we swore that if we were still single at 30 we’d marry each other, well hey guess whose birthday it is?”  Except they made this promise in college.  Modern au.**

 

“ _ A kiss on the hand may be quite continental. But diamonds are a girl’s best friend _ …” Katniss sang along to Nicole Kidman’s performance in  _ Moulin Rouge _ .

 

“You sending me a hint, Everdeen?” Peeta asked, the sound of the microwave going off followed by the popping of popcorn and the smell of butter wafting in the air.

 

“Hey, if you hand me a rock, I won’t turn it down,” she said, spreading out on the sofa as Satine  mistakens Christian for the Duke. “Diamonds are worth a lot and I have rent to pay.”

 

Peeta chuckled. “Always the romantic.  You know, you’re about to turn thirty. I can hear your ovaries crackling and ripening from over here.”

 

Katniss sat up, her head swiveling to see Peeta take the popcorn out of the microwave and dump it into a bowl.  “That is the most fucked up, sexist thing I’ve ever heard in my life!  My ovaries are quite fresh, thank you very much!”

 

“That’s not what scientists say.”

 

“The nerve!” she exclaimed, snatching the bowl of popcorn from him. If it had been anyone else, they would have gotten kicked out of her apartment. As it was, Peeta was her best friend and had carte blanche when it came to teasing her.  “You’re turning thirty also! Just for that, I’m not sharing the popcorn and you can sit on the ottoman!”

 

Peeta chuckled, lifting her legs and settling into the corner of the couch, dropping her feet onto his lap. She huffed but didn’t protest.  He grabbed a handful of popcorn and sipped at the wine he’d left at the end table.  “ _ All sound and fury, signifying nothing… _ ”

 

“I poop on Faulkner. Watch the movie.” Katniss said but chuckled, passing Peeta the bowl of popcorn.  After a while, she said, “But really, thirty isn’t that old, you know. I think people make a big deal out of it.”

 

“They do,” he agreed, downing a second glass of wine before refilling both their glasses. It was a routine - they spent most of their Friday nights eating take-out or pizza and downing copious amounts of wine. It didn’t matter what was happening in their lives - ever since they could make their own popcorn and order their own food, Friday movie night was a sacred night for them. There were some interruptions - bad weather, part-time jobs, the occasional relationship obligation with other partners - but for the most part, the last fifteen years of their lives had been punctuated by weekly appointments with schmalzy films and cheap red wine, sometimes even out of a box.

 

“And especially when it comes to women. Think about it - how many people come up to you and say, ‘Hey, Mellark, better put a ring on it before your balls get crusty and old?’ Who even says that to a man? But with women, it’s ‘clocks’ and ‘ovaries’ and ‘folic acid’ and God, leave us the hell alone! I mean, hello, technology!  I can marry anytime and have a baby when I’m sixty, if I want to.” She was slurring slightly by now and Satine was standing on top of an elephant, singing her heart out with Christian.  “Ewan McGregor really has a big mouth. Like a big, wide mouth…”

 

“Ah, the better to cross the galaxy with, my young Padawan,” Peeta said, scraping at the now empty bowl of popcorn.  “You really do have a bottomless appetite, you know that?”

 

“What?  Yeah, but as I was saying. I have a confession to make. You know I've never really wanted to get married, except maybe once…”

 

Peeta perked up, turning bodily to face her.  “You? You wanted to get married? Oh, now I have to hear this. Wait…” he filled her glass again. Her tongue was numb but she didn’t care. She was having a marvelous time and anyway, she had nowhere to go tomorrow.  “Okay, spit it out.  When, in this dimension, did Katniss Everdeen ever have the urge to get married?”

 

“I think you’re exaggerating. You act like I have no natural female instincts.”

 

“You?  If you tell me you’ve ever wanted to get married, a wormhole is going to open up in this living room and the world as we know it will come to an end.”

 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that!” she said, pulling her legs off his lap. Despite the haze of alcohol, she was angry. How could her best friend treat her as if she were some aberration of womankind?  Of humankind? Because both men and women wanted to get married. It was natural at some point to want that, even if the moment was fleeting. She made to get up but Peeta tugged her back down.

 

“No, come back. I need to hear this. When did you want to get married?” he said, gripping his wine glass as if he were holding on for dear life.

 

“In college! Okay? Do you remember what we promised? We were sophomores and it was around the time that you were going out with that one girl, the one with the big - “

 

“Glimmer.  Yeah, I remember her,” he said, gulping back his wine and swallowing loudly. She could imagine it was not a memory he wanted to revisit. She’d cheated on him with his friend, Marvel and last he’d heard, they’d gotten married and had five kids. That had to sting a bit, even if she had the personality of a can opener.

 

“It was after all that went down.  We promised that if we got to thirty and didn’t get married, we’d marry each other,” Katniss said, feeling suddenly very emotional. Stupid wine. She knew she’d be sorry in the morning. But what she had to say sat in the middle of her chest, pushing at her sternum, her ribs. It had to get out.

 

“You remember that?  We were drunk as skunks,” Peeta said but his voice was low and he did not sound at all like a man protesting.

 

“We are regularly drunk as skunks. What does that mean?” Katniss said. “And at the time, I thought it was, I don’t know, a good idea. And then that other chick showed up - “

 

“And Gale.  That’s when you started dating Gale,” he interjected.

 

“Yeah,” she said, remembering the three years she’d spent dating her childhood friend, the great first one and the combative and ultimately miserable last two.  Peeta had had a parade of girls after Glimmer, to the point that she’d lost track. But the Friday nights, or sometimes Thursdays, had somehow continued, much to their respective partners’ chagrin. Katniss rubbed her face. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I feel like an idiot.”

 

Peeta meanwhile stared at Katniss with an inscrutable expression, the intensity of his deep blue eyes so great, it made her uncomfortable until she couldn't stand it anymore and tried to get up.

 

“Whoa, bad move,”  Katniss said, stumbling unsteadily on her feet.  The world began to spin and she sank back down to the sofa. “I think I over did it.” 

 

Peeta went to the kitchen and brought back a large glass of water. “Here, drink slowly.” 

 

Katniss did as she was told, leaning back against the couch when she was done. Christian was now singing his secret song to Satine while she stood, heartbroken, on the stage, the song meant to mask their feelings in front of the world, in defiance of the Duke and the inexorable worsening of her illness.  Peeta meanwhile, was rubbing circles with his thumb on the palm of her hand, a rhythm that soothed her stomach and her head.

 

“It made me...happy...you know. The idea...of it,” she slurred, her eyes struggling to stay awake. “It...It...was the only...thing that ever...made sense...to me.” She said as her world went dark, Peeta’s blue eyes the last thing she saw. 

 

**XXXXX**

 

Katniss woke the next morning to a dull headache. Her mouth was fuzzy and tasted like she'd swallowed sandpaper. Sitting up gingerly, she glanced around to see that she was no longer in the living room but in her bed. Her shoes had been removed but she was still dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the night before. 

 

As she left the bed, the events of the night before came rushing back to her, causing her knees to weaken until she had to lean against the door jamb. A low moan escaped her throat.

 

“No, no, no, what did I do? Peeta?” She searched her small apartment but unless he was hiding in the bathtub, she was completely alone.

 

She fumbled to her bag, rifling through it for her cell phone. What could she say to him?  _ Sorry for trashing the only functional relationship I've ever had? _  She felt sick to her stomach and not because of the wine. After starting and erasing several text messages, she settled for a simple  _ Did you get home okay? _

 

She stuffed the home in her jeans, padding to the kitchen and made herself a stiff cup coffee, checking her phone every minute and becoming disheartened when no messages appeared.  She showered, changed into fresh clothes, even straightened her apartment, panicking when there was still no response until, by lunch, she'd worked herself into a frenzy. 

 

She'd blown it. As she dialed his number for the fourth time, the call going straight to voicemail, it became more and more clear that she had lost her best friend.  In a moment of self-indulgent weakness, she'd revealed what she had been unable to reveal, should never have revealed, not even to herself and now he was ignoring her. 

 

Maybe he was just sleeping off his hangover and would wake to find his memories of last night wiped away. Maybe, he didn’t want to hear from her anymore.  Or maybe, he had gotten into a car accident and was even now lying in a hospital bed, hurt and unconscious.

 

The last thought prompted her to shove her feet into her worn running shoes, grab her bag and phone, and dart towards the door. She’d try his apartment first and if he wasn’t there, she’d swing by the bakery and check with his brothers…

 

The banging at the front door pulled her from her obsessive thoughts.  She yanked the door open, not bothering to ask who it was, and was nearly dizzy with relief when she saw Peeta standing before her the way he had a thousand times before.

 

“Peeta!” she said, launching herself at him, nearly knocking him over with the force of her greeting.

 

“Hey!” he laughed, catching her easily as she flung her arms around him. Her body heaved with gasps of relief.

 

“I thought you were dead!” she sobbed against his shoulder, then pulled back.  “Wait, you’re not dead!”  She shoved him backwards. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?!”

 

“How about you let me come in so I can tell you everything?” he said, still bemused, which angered her by the minute, making her forget her angst of earlier.

 

She stepped aside, still awash with an insane feeling of relief but unwilling to let him off the hook just yet, even if she had lately confessed to him that she might even be happy to marry him. No, better to hang on to the anger. Maybe he’d forget her colossal gaffe.

 

“You’d better make it good or I’m tossing you right back out again,” she said but her voice lacked the force of her anger and ended up sounding happy and hopeful instead.

 

When she’d shut the door, he sprawled out on the sofa, studying her with a smug air. “First things first. I did get your messages. All of them. And the phone calls. I’m surprised you didn’t come by my place when I didn’t answer.” Katniss glanced down at the bag and keys in her hand and let them clatter onto the coffee table.  Slumping into a chair, she toed off her shoes.

 

“Ah,” he said, biting back a smile as Katniss kicked the shoes in his direction, missing by more than a foot.

 

“That was a crappy thing to do,” she groused.

 

“Well, I didn’t want to make you worry but I needed time to think about what you said last night. And to prepare.”

 

Katniss’s chest seized up, squeezing her lungs and her heart until they hurt, sending the first prickling of tears to the corner of her eyes. “Prepare...for what?”  

 

Her terror must have been written on her face because Peeta lost his smug smile, becoming serious.  “I…”  he stumbled and for the first time since she’d known him, he was at a loss for words.  It made her terror real and her loss imminent and suddenly, she was ready to do anything, as long as he didn’t leave her life.

 

“Peeta...I’m sorry. Just pretend I didn’t say anything!  It was a stupid, callous thing to say!” She got up and took the seat next to him. “You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do if something changed between us.”  Her father suddenly came to her mind, the feeling she’d experienced when he’d died and suddenly Katniss was in the grip of real grief.  “I’m so sorry!”

 

“Katniss...why are you apologizing?” He took her hand and squeezed it, his eyes wide with the terror she also felt. “Can I ask you something?  And promise you’ll be perfectly and completely honest, no matter what?”

 

A tear slid down her cheek, which she brushed roughly away. “Yes. I promise.”

 

“Do you...do you love me?” 

 

Katniss slumped.  Did she?  Did she actually love Peeta?  Her movie and wine buddy?  Her best friend?  Did she love the only person who had survived her every romantic adventure, her joys and disappointments? The one who she’d nursed through a flu?  The only person she’d ever thrown up with? Did she love him?

 

Peeta’s voice was low and gentle. “Don’t think about it, Katniss.  You either know or you don’t. Do you love me?”

 

Katniss stopped thinking, about her confession, their coming birthdays, their friendship, the infinite nights skirting what she should have known all along.

 

“I do. I always have.”

 

Peeta let out burst of air and it was only then that Katniss realized he had been holding his breath. He moved closer to her and took her hand. 

  
“I remember that promise. I’ve thought about it every day since I made it. But I never believed that we’d ever get beyond what we have now to see it fulfilled.”  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.  “They say you should marry your best friend, the person you trust more than anyone else in the world. I love you. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”

 

It took a moment to process his words, his lips on her skin. But when her brain caught up with her heart, she was filled with a stupid, crazy happiness.  How had she not realized that this could be something she could want?  

 

“Kiss me,” she said.  “We’ve never kissed before.”

 

Peeta pulled her towards him, still holding her hand, his other resting gently against the back of her head.  He peered into her eyes and she was taken aback by the kaleidoscope of blue - they’d never been this close - before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. It was hesitant and light, his every insecurity announcing itself in the way he held back. Katniss pressed forward, meeting him more than half way, feeling the low hum of energy between them.  

 

She opened her eyes and pulled back, observing him, searching for hesitation but he simply let her hand go and pulled her back, this time with more certainty.  When he kissed her again, he parted his lips, inviting her to kiss him more deeply and she took up the invitation. She nearly buckled at the taste of him, the natural way they came together, the hunger that spread to every extremity of her body. She whimpered beneath it, and thought fleetingly how easy it would be for her to lose herself in him.

 

When they pulled apart a while later, Peeta gave her a swollen grin before digging into his pocket and pulling out a black box.

 

“Peeta…” Katniss began but he shook his head.

 

“I told you. I didn’t want to ruin my surprise. I had to prepare and that’s why I didn’t answer your calls this morning.” He opened the box, revealing a simple solitaire set on a white gold band. “I had to prepare.  For this.”  He looked up and his eyes were wide and frightened.

 

“It isn’t just because we’re turning thirty, is it?” she asked, her voice on the verge of breaking.

 

Peeta let out a chuckle that sounded more like a gasp. “No, it’s not just because we’re turning thirty. It’s because I don’t want another thirty to pass by before we figure it out.  Marry me, Katniss.”

 

Katniss could only nod.  She watched him slip the ring on her finger and bend to kiss it with such reverence, she thought she might cry.  And for a moment, she was certain he would too. But he didn’t. Something of her devilish best friend muscled its way to the surface, bringing a certain twinkle in his eye.

 

“This is not for the rent, okay?” he quipped before pulling her back into his arms.

 

She laughed then before they resumed kissing. They had years to make up for, after all. Maybe for someone else, diamonds were a girl’s best friend. But not for Katniss. For one, you couldn’t actually kiss a diamond. And she planned on kissing her best friend for as deeply and as long as she could.

**Author's Note:**

> If readers are interested in any of the words, you may feel free to message me a request! Enjoy :).


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